


An Offer

by Spannah339



Series: The Three Evils [7]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, bad touch bad touch stranger danger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 18:21:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17667728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spannah339/pseuds/Spannah339
Summary: Jackie feels lost in his new darkness, and a certain someone takes advantage of that.





	An Offer

It was nighttime - Jackie could tell from the silence. Day was filled with noises from outside, with the occasional muted conversation from the others, with birds singing outside his window. Night was silent - nothing but the occasional car rushing past outside.

He was sitting up in bed, picking absently at the edge of his blanket. He couldn’t sleep, his eyes were still aching, the bandages not yet ready to be removed.

Henrik had said that he could start moving around, could move back into his own room, but he didn’t want to yet. He didn’t want to pretend that everything was normal. He didn’t want to feel even more lost than he already did, sitting in the bed in Henrik’s clinic. Moving into his room would make him feel like he should be a hero again, he should be doing his job. At least if he stayed here he could pretend there was something more wrong with him than just his missing sight.

He didn’t like silence. It didn’t use to bother him - in fact, he somewhat enjoyed it. Sitting in silence, watching the world pass him by, not needing to do anything. But now, now he felt detached, drifting, alone. At least in the day he could hear his friends and knew they were nearby.

“St͡ill a͢wa̕ke?”

A voice broke into the silence of the room and Jackie started, looking towards the voice.

“Chase?” he asked, not recognizing Henrik’s accent. Silence greeted him and he was unsure if he had even heard anything. He shook his head, raising his hands to his face and let out a long breath. “Just your imagination, Jackieboy,” he muttered. “Go to sleep.”

“Oh͠ p͟le͢a͏se, ̶I wan̛t͝ t̡o t҉al͡k͘ to̶ yo̶u.”

There was definitely someone in the room with him. Jackie felt his heart rate speed up as he tried in vain to see, as he tried to make out where the speaker was, who the speaker was.

Although, with a sinking heart, he realised it wasn’t hard to figure out who was in the room with him.

He clutched the blankets tightly, trying not to panic. For a brief moment, he considered calling out for Henrik or Chase but stopped. There were so many ways that could go wrong - he had no idea how Anti would react if someone else walked in while he was visiting.

Besides - he was Jackieboy Man. He was a superhero. He could take the glitch.

But the memory of Anti’s grinning face haunted him, the image of the last thing he had seen refusing to ever leave.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, looking in the general direction he had last heard Anti’s voice from. A low chuckle filled the room and he flinched as a hand brushed against his cheek. He pushed himself back, feeling Anti sitting uncomfortably close to him on the bed.

“I҉ ͡wa͞nted to͝ ͏t̷al̡k̵,҉ ͢litt͡le̛ ̨hero,” Anti said, his voice close to Jackie’s head. Jackie moved, shifting away from Anti, trying to heart the thumping of his heart.

“You said that,” he said, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “What about?”

“Abo̸u͝t ̵yo̸u,̵ ̴p͞e͜t,” Anti crooned, a hand running down Jackie’s face. He flinched, jerking back - too quickly. With a yelp and a crash, he tumbled off the bed, landing on the ground in a slight daze. Anti’s chuckle filled the room and he curled into himself, pressing his back to the wall, looking around wildly with his blind eyes.

“My̧ my̶, y̧ou͡ h͡a҉ve͢ l̴et ͏y҉oursel̕f ͟go.”

He could feel Anti’s presence coming closer, shifting right in front of him.

“Yo͟u͘ kn͟ow,̸ ҉I ̸w͢ould h̕a̴ve ͠thǫuģh̵t yo̵u'̢d be͝ b̶e͟tt͝e͡r͜ ̵tha͟n͘ ͏th͘i҉s,” Anti said, his voice sickly soft. Again, a hand ran down Jackie’s cheek, and this time he pushed it aside angrily.

“Leave me alone,” he said sharply.

“Sti̢l͞l ̨g͟o̶t ͟y̧o̢ur͢ ̵bite, I͝ see. G͠o̷o͘d͟,̨ thiş ͝wo͘uldn͞’t ̧be ̕f҉un oth҉e̕rw̡i̵s̡e̶” Anti chuckled, and the hand returned, gently pushing hair out of Jackie’s face. He bared his teeth, shoving it back, but Anti’s other hand darted forward, catching his wrists and pulling them down. Jackie struggled to free himself, but Anti placed a finger over his lips.

“Hush n͟ow̧,̸ ͞w̨ou͏l͟dn’t ͡w̛ant ̛to ̨w҉ake ͢u̧p ͢y̡o̴u̕r͘ fr̡ien̸d̸s, ̛w̨oųld ͏we?”

Jackie tried to bite the finger, but Anti pulled it back, running his hand down Jackie’s arm. Jackie tried to pull away, but Anti’s grip on his hands was too tight and he couldn’t.

“Did you just come here to gloat?” he demanded. Sharp pain burst from his arm and he let out a hiss as Anti dug his nails into his skin without warning. He was suddenly hauled close, his face pressed into Anti’s chest.

Letting out a muffled yelp, he tried to pull back, but Anti let out a low ‘hush,’ wrapping one hand around the back of his head, nestling his fingers in Jackie’s hair. Despite Jackie’s struggles, Anti was too strong for him - he was trapped in an embrace he wanted no part of.

His hands now pinned in front of him, Anti used one hand to gently stroke his back, running his hand up and down, his touch raising hair and making Jackie feel all the more uncomfortable.

“Shh, m͠y͝ p̵e͘t,” Anti whispered, but Jackie didn’t quit struggling, trying to pull free, trying to escape from Anti’s embrace.  “Q̛uiet ͝ņow̴.̸” This time, he growled the words, his soft strokes suddenly turning into claws. Jackie stiffened as Anti’s long nails dug into his scalp, as his claws ripped through the thin shirt on his back.

“T̛h̕aţ'̶s bet͘ter.” Anti said, slowly pushing Jackie back. This time he didn’t try to resist, sharp throbs of pain scattered across his head and back. “Y͢ou'͡r̢e an҉ in͡t͠eresti͘n͞g ǫn̕e,͡ ͡l̵ittle̵ h͘e͘ro͜. ͏Yo̸ųr͢…͠ ‘frie̡nds͟’ ţhe̷y͏ got w̸h̶at wa͝s͡ com͝ing.” He continued touching, his hands not leaving Jackie’s body as he ran a finger along his cheek, up his arm, down his back. Jackie shuddered at the touch but didn’t have the energy to resist - didn’t know how to, without knowing where the next touch would come from.

“Th̸e ҉l̴it̕tle̸ m̕a̡n̡ o̧u̶t of ͠t͡ime͡ ͡-̧ ̧h͜e̸ wa͠s͘ s̕u̵ch̴ a͜ ta̛t̵tle tale.̨” A finger ran across Jackie’s lips, tracing the shape of his mouth. “The de͜ar ͘k̕it҉ty͏ ̵c͡at,̨ li̛s̸t̕enin̕g ̨in w͢h̷en͡ ҉h͏e͠ s͘h̡ou̴l̸dn't̵ h͢a͠v̵e.” Anti stroked his ears, cupping them each in a hand.

“But̡ y͘ou,͜ my̧ ͏pe͏t, ̸you͠ ̧-͝”

“You wanted to see me suffer,” Jackie interrupted. “That’s all you want, to see us all in pain, to see us - ah!” He cried out as a sharp slap to the side of his face knocked his head to one side, stars dancing in the darkness and his cheek throbbing.

“Don’t ͘įn̴tȩr҉r̨up͘t͟ ͘m͡e,” Anti growled. Jackie lowered his head, fighting hard to keep his composure as Anti continued talking. “As ̵I ͘w͡as̵ ͢say̷i͠n͠g͏, you'̸r̨ȩ ͝dif̸fer̴e̕nt͏.” A hand was placed under Jackie’s chin, lifting it slowly. The other gently traced the scar that was left from where Anti had cut his mask from his face. “I̛ ̸si̴mpl͢y w͠an̛te҉d ͜t͟o ͠fi͞n̢i̶s̛h̢ tḩe p̢aţter̕n - a̶n͜d ͞t̷o͡ ͏s̴e̡e͢ h̢o̢w̵ we͜ll ͢yo͢u̷ w҉ould҉ a̴d͘apt.” The finger on the side of his face turned into a claw, digging into his skin, letting blood escape and trickle down his face.

“Y͢o͟u di͡sa̢pp͠o̷int͟ m͠e̡.”

“Well, I’m not around for your enjoyment,” Jackie snarled, his words catching in his throat as the fingers on his chin tightened, nails digging into his skin.

“Ḩush͟ ̢n͜o̸w͘, ̸p͟et. Li͏s̕t̢e͢n̛ to͞ ̨m͏e.̴ I͝ want ̡t̵ǫ g͏i̸v͠e ͏you͘ ̕an͢ ͠o͢ffer̷.” Arms wrapped around Jackie again, pulling him into another tight embrace. Jackie tried weakly to push away, but he knew it would be futile, so gave up, his face pressed into Anti’s shoulder.

“I̧ ̨c̢an̴ ̡g̷i͏v҉e ͠y͝o͠u yo̡ur sigh͘t ba̡ck,̵ ̛yo͝u̕ k̡n͞ow͝,” Anti whispered, running a hand up Jackie’s back, gently avoiding the fresh scratches. Jackie shifted at that, a strange fluttering in his chest. His sight - Anti could give him his sight back.

“You - you blinded me though,” he said quietly.

“I h̕av͠ȩ t̸he po͡w͢e͝r to̧ t͏a͞ke̵ a̡w͡a͝y ̢and ͜t̵he p̵ow͢er̴ t͝o g̢iv͠e̡ b͡a͞c͘k,̵ ͢pet,” Anti said softly, his chest vibrating as he spoke. “I ̵ca͞n͢ ̸giv͠e͞ y͟ou͢ what you mo͡st de̛si͝re͘.̸”

Jackie let out a long breath, too exhausted to keep fighting. Besides, it was easier - easier to drift in the darkness, to let the rhythmic rubbing on his back lull him. He wanted to believe - he wanted to believe that Anti could do it, that Anti  _would_ do it. What he wouldn’t give to have his sight back.

“Y͘o̶ur̵ ̵fr͟ie͜n̢ds ̢mu̢s͞t͞ ͏be ͘t̸ire͜d ͝ǫf loo͟k̕in͢g af͞ter͘ y͏o͡u.” Anti’s voice was unusually soft, whispering as he continued rubbing Jackie’s back. It was so easy - so easy to forget, so easy to believe in what he was saying.

But something was off, something was screaming that he shouldn’t listen, he shouldn’t give up, he should still be fighting. Something was shouting at him to fight.

He shifted under Anti’s embrace and the stroking paused, the tips of Anti’s claws resting on his skin.

“What’s the twist?” Jackie asked quietly, trying once more to push away from Anti. Fight. Fight Jackieboy,  _fight_. He may not have his vision, but he was still a hero.

“Ţw̕i͞s̸t͞?” Anti asked, cupping Jackie’s chin in a hand and gently lifting it. ͠”No̸ tw͜ist”

“There’s always a twist with you,” Jackie growled. He let out a yelp as a hand suddenly tightened around his neck, shoving him back, into the wall. He scrabbled at the hand pinning him to the wall, gasping for breath as he did.

Another hand ran lightly over his face and he stiffened, chest heaving, hands still clutching Anti’s wrist.

“No ͏t̨wi̷st̷ b͢eca̢use i͝t w͠i͟l̵l ͢happ̧e͡n͢.̧ ̵Yo͟u̶ w̸ill̨ ͘b̛ow ̸t̢o m̕e, ̛pet -͢ ąnd̨ ̛i̷f ͞y͢oư ͜do ̸so ̧w̡illin͡g͏l̵y I ͡will͟ ̛r̷e҉w̷ard yo̢ų ͡wit͘h̴ yo̕ur ̸v͘isi̵on͞ ag͝ai͜n.” Anti’s voice was menacing, glitching and more crazied than Jackie had heard him in a long time. He tried in vain again to pull Anti’s hand from his throat, to let any kind of breath enter his screaming lungs.

“I̵ w͜ill͝ g͢iv͏e̷ ͘yo͞u͢ o͏ne̢ ͞m̸or͏e ̛c͠h͟an͏ce͝, p̷et.͞ A̕n̴ḑ ͢the̡n ̢y͘ou̴ w҉il͘l͝ ̶b̸e̢ f͡orev͞e͝r̴ i͞n t͏he ̛dark.͝ ”

The hand around his neck suddenly vanished and Jackie slumped forward, catching himself on the rough carpet with one hand, the other cupped around where Anti had been gripping him. He gasped, filling his lungs with blessed air, trying to fight back the tears pricking his scarred and useless eyes.

He pressed himself against the wall, wrapping his arms around his legs and burying his face in his knees, refusing to cry. He was strong, he had survived. He could face Anti - he could survive.

The door creaked open and he snapped his head up, pressing himself further into the wall, scared Anti was back. He was breathing heavily, bleeding from the scratches Anti had inflicted on him, clutching his knees like his life depended on it.

“Jackie?”

It sounded like Chase, but Jackie wasn’t sure. He didn’t move, still hugging himself, still fighting back the tears.

Someone moved across the room towards him, stopping before him. A hand was laid on his shoulder and Jackie flinched back, Anti’s touch still fresh in his mind.

“Woah, hey, it’s me, it’s Chase. Sorry - I, I’m not used to having to -”

Jackie let out a low sob at the sound of his brother’s voice, suddenly unable to keep the tears back. He flung himself forward, wrapping his arms clumsily around Chase’s neck. Chase stiffened, clearly startled, the returned the hug, his warm arms wrapping around Jackie’s back.

“Wha - Jackie you’re bleeding?” he said, almost a question. “What happened?”

Jackie didn’t answer, shoulders shaking as he clung to Chase, clung to him as though letting go would mean being alone. He buried his face in Chase’s shoulder, feeling the smooth fabric of his shirt under his cheek. Chase’s heart was beating a steady beat, his chest softly rising and falling. The familiar scent of faint alcohol, mint and tea comforting as he cried.

“Jackie?” Chase asked quietly, shifting and pushing him back gently. Jackie dropped his face, some small part of him not wanting his brother to see him so weak. He was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to be the protector. 

“Sorry,” he muttered, trying to stop the tears that were still flowing. Chase’s finger gently wiped them away, his hands much warmer than Anti’s, his touch so much more comforting. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said softly. “Don’t apologise.” He let out a long, shaky breath, clearly out of his depth with comforting Jackie. 

“ _Y͘o̶ur̵ ̵fr͟ie͜n̢ds ̢mu̢s͞t͞ ͏be ͘t̸ire͜d ͝ǫf loo͟k̕in͢g af͞ter͘ y͏o͡u._ ” Anti’s words came back to him and the tears threatened to fall again. 

“You want to tell me what happened?” Chase asked, and Jackie shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about that. He didn’t want to remember that. Anti’s phantom touch still danced across his skin and he wasn’t sure he would ever be rid of it. “Alright,” Chase said quietly. He shifted, standing and suddenly his touch on Jackie’s shoulder vanished. 

Blind panic burst through him - he couldn’t be alone. He would have no idea if Anti came back, he would have no way of knowing where the next touch would come. He couldn’t be left alone - Anti would come back, Anti would hurt him again. 

“Don’t go!” he cried, his voice pathetically small. He reached out blindly, searching for the comfort of Chase’s presence. To his relief, Chase grabbed his hand, crouching in front of him again. 

“I’m right here,” he said, his voice even. But he still couldn’t disguise the tremor of uncertainty and grief in it. He reached out, touching Jackie’s shoulder and the former superhero fell into his embrace again, the tears flowing freely once more. 

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t… oh Jackie -  _I”m_ sorry. I’m so sorry this… I love you, bro.” Chase’s chest was rising evenly, but the cheek pressed against Jackie’s head was wet and his voice caught as he spoke. “I wish I could do more.” 

“I wish you didn’t have to,” Jackie whispered, unsure if Chase would even be able to hear him. He was the oldest, he was their big brother.  _He_ was the one who was supposed to be strong, to be the protector, to look after them when they were weak. 

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He shouldn’t be so  _weak_. 


End file.
